


Alone

by macgyvershe



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-06-02
Updated: 2014-07-22
Packaged: 2018-02-03 04:54:55
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 15,132
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1731911
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/macgyvershe/pseuds/macgyvershe
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>AU Someone is after Sherlock. He's killed Moriarty, so maybe it's one of Moriarty's people. John is in jeopardy. Can Sherlock save John and catch the villain who took him?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. You are never alone.

**Author's Note:**

> This was one of my earlier works. It is pretty much complete and will be going up soon.

John had the flat to himself. They had called Sherlock to the Yard and he had left his injured John at home. John had sprained his ankle in a slip and fall. The sprain had him back to using his old cane, until the swelling went down. Sherlock was being a complete mother hen. It is nice to be alone, quiet and unfettered by Sherlock’s constant attentions. With Sherlock, it was feast or famine. That is the way it was with the worlds only consulting detective, John had to get his quiet when he could. He’d finished his latest blog entry. Rubbing his tried eyes, thinking about what needed his attention next.

“Well, I don’t think there is anything really urgent right now.” John said sleepily. He was sitting on the couch, so he just set his notebook on the coffee table and lay down on the couch. Elevating his dodgy leg, he decided a nap was a good use of his time. He slept, a bit longer than he had intended to the sun had set outside. He sat up and reached to turn a lamp on. It clicked, but no light. 

“Damn it all. I guess Mrs. Hudson’s blown a fuse or forgot to add to her energy card.”

Getting up from the couch, he happens to look out the window. The busy street is unusually empty. The normal foot traffic is gone, so is all the illumination as far as he can see. 

“Maybe not a card, maybe a city main?” John is very interested now. He goes over to the coffee table and picks up his mobile. It shows no service. “Now, that’s getting more than strange,” John, said pocketing his mobile.

“No mobile, no lights, what next?” John shook his head in consternation. “Guess the best thing to do is go and find out what’s about.”

John shrugged on his jacket, closed the door to the flat hobbled down the stairs. He placed his hand on the doorknob. Instantaneously thrown back by the force of an electrical charge going through the knob and into his hand. 

“Damn!” John shook his hand to get the feeling back in. He fast tracked up the stairs, into the flat and to his bedroom, feeling his way as he went. There in his bedside stand, he pulled the top door open and searched inside for his gun. Gone!

John pulled the door out further, making sure that he hadn’t missed the gun. It was not there. “Oh my god, something terrible is happening.” John whispered.

Then there was a noise from 221C, the basement apartment. Someone was braking in through one of the windows.

‘Now what?’ He thinks. Standing his ground somewhere in the flat is his only option. He gets a knife from the kitchen, and then goes back into the living room standing vigil, his pulse racing. Someone was in the foyer. Now creeping up the stairs, they didn’t step on the squeaky stair! John gripped the knife tightly, his eyes straining to see.

“John?”

John relaxed at the whispered inquiry of the familiar voice.

“Sherlock, what the hell is going on?”

Sherlock had a small flashlight pointed at the floor.

“John, we have to get out of here.” There was urgency in his words. “Now!”

John immediately went into Sherlock’s-in-charge mode.

“We’re going out the basement,” Sherlock whispered.

They went down the stairs, through the open door in 221C. Having broken one of the windows at street level Sherlock used his thick-coated arm to clear more of the broken glass from the windowsill. He hefted himself up and through, then reached back down for John.

John discarded his cane and took Sherlock’s hand, pushing himself up and out the window. They crouch in the dark alley way filled with skips.

“All of London is on lockdown, John.” Sherlock examines the alley further.

“What? Why?” John was shocked.

“Supposedly, terrorists have jammed mobile services and utilities are down. This all started in the area of Baker Street earlier this evening.”

“Oh, my god, Sherlock, but wait a minute there was an electrical charge on the front door; it knocked me on my ass. How did that happen?”

“There was a petrol powered generator in the rear of the flat. I disengaged it so I could enter the basement. Someone was trying to keep you caged in. This is all a trap, John, for me.”

John was stunned.

“Who would take out all of London, making it look like a terrorist plot all to trap you, Sherlock?” John knew without thinking. “Moriarty, but he’s dead, Sherlock.”

“Apparently not dead enough, his power and destructive purpose live beyond the grave, John. We are going to have to move fast. I am going to carry you. This may not be comfortable for you.”

Sherlock bent down lifting John over his left shoulder. John doing his best to hang on as Sherlock moved as stealthily as he could carrying John down the darkened streets.

London without lights, no bustle of people, no rumble of cabs and buses; it was a concrete and glass monument latticed with remnants of an ancient world. It was beautiful, elegant, and now darkly dangerous.

Then from around a corner a taxi careened at them; stopping just alongside the two men. Sherlock helped John into the cab, leaning in to talk to him. 

“John, I’ve made provisions for this scenario. This driver is trusted and will take you to a safe house.”

“No, Sherlock we’re staying together. I won’t leave you!”

Sherlock shoved John further into the cab.

“John, I won’t risk your life any further, there will be no discussion on this matter.” Sherlock slammed the cab door shut and tapped on the cab exterior to signal the driver to go.

Whisked away, screaming at the top of his lungs John fought for release from the locked cab.

Sherlock watched as the taxi rounded another corner. He turned to walk in the opposite direction when he heard shots fired. Sherlock turned back, running toward the sound of the shots. Turning the corner that the taxi had just taken, he found the taxi; both front tires blown, the driver riddled with bullets and the back of the cab empty except for a mobile device. A woman’s face filled the screen. Her eyes were dark and her short, dark hair framed her handsome face. 

“Sherlock Holmes, I presume,” the woman said. Her deeply sensual voice had a sharp snap to it.

“And you are?” Sherlock lifted the mobile to view the woman with the whip crack voice.

“I am the nightmare that you’ve just found yourself in.”

(-_-)

John woke to find himself in a comfortable bed in what looked like an upscale bed and breakfast. His sprained ankle was elevated. He took a deep breath and tried to piece together what he remembered last. He pulled himself up to a sitting position.

“Where the hell are you, John Watson,” John asked?

From his right a voice that sounded remarkably like Sherlock Holmes spoke

_[S7] You are confined in suite 1220, Area 13 of the Smith building, London, United Kingdom._

“Who am I talking to?” John said to the disembodied voice.

_[S7] John Hamish Watson, This is computer unit S7 – programming prohibits further definition._

“Why do you sound like Sherlock Holmes?”

_[S7] You are in a stressful situation and this voice has a calming influence over you._

“If you only knew. Who owns the Smith building?”

_[S7] Quardis Smith._

“And how are Quardis Smith and Jim Moriarty connected,” John asked?

_[S7] They were business associates._

“Good evening, John Watson.” A short woman, with dark eyes and closely cropped dark hair entered the room. She was dressed in Jacques Azagury. That designer didn’t usually produce women’s business suits. “I see you’ve met S7. Detail patient’s vitals?” She asked the computer.

In a neutral voice, the computer said, ‘Patients vitals are all within normal parameters.’

“What kind of business were you and Moriarty in?” John is extremely interested in who this woman is.

“We were in every kind of filthy, dirty business, John,” she smiled sinisterly. “May I call you John? I feel we have a great deal in common.”

“Yeah, you want to kill Sherlock and I’m interested in seeing him NOT dead.” John said throwing his legs over the side of the bed and testing his weight on his sprained ankle.

“How does it feel to be the bait in my little trap?”

“He’s not daft, you know, he won’t be coming to your party.”

“Unless he comes forward in twenty-four hours, you’re dead. Seven, level 4-security see that our patient gets anything he wants, but can’t escape. I’ll be back for him later.”

Smith exits John’s room leaving a cold chill in the air.

“Seven, it’s been a while since I’ve eaten can you get me some food?” John is famished.

**[Sherlock’s voice] Cornish game hen, red potatoes and wilted spinach with butter and freshly baked bread.**

“How did you know that?” John is baffled and amazed at the computers knowledge.

**[Sherlock’s voice] There is a tablet under the main control in your room, John. Find it.**

John got up, hobbled to the main control and found the tablet.

“What’s this about?” John said to the computer.

**[Sherlock’s voice] Open the tablet.**

John opened the tablet. A strange hum filled the room.

**[Sherlock's voice] “John, this is Sherlock. I’ve hacked into Smith’s computer system and I’m working on taking it down. The tablet has just sent out a signal that will allow me to talk to you without anyone listening in. I need you to follow my instructions. I’m going to get you out of there.”**

“Thank god, Sherlock. I thought I was alone for sure.” John breathed easily. Of course, Sherlock would save him. Sherlock, I really do need some food.” 

**[Sherlock's voice] “On its way, John. You’re not alone. I’ve got food coming to you,” Sherlock said. His voice soothing and rock sure that John would be home and safe very soon.**

(-_-)

“How in the hell did you hack into her computer system, Sherlock? I had no idea you were an accomplished computer hacker?” John had finished his meal, happy to be full once again.

**[Sherlock's voice] “There are many things about me you don’t know, John. We can discuss particulars later. We need to get you out of there and this isn’t going to be an easy task. I can control the cameras, sensors, locks and entryways, but I can’t disguise you from here. I am working on ghosting images of the hallways making them look empty to observing cameras. How is your leg? Will you be able to walk some distance?”**

“Ankle’s still sore; I will be able to walk anywhere I need to Sherlock.”

**[Sherlock's voice] “I’m working on getting more people inside; I don’t want you to have to go too far without some assistance.”**

“Will you be coming, Sherlock?” 

**{Sherlock's voice] “Always, John, I will be there soon. Just for the moment I want you to stay where you are and play along with this Smith woman. Do not provoke her and give her as little information as you can.”**

“I understand Sherlock and the tablet?”

**[Sherlock's voice] “Try to keep it with you, but if things get complicated, don’t hesitate to give it up. I’ve loaded several games on it. Let her think that you are entertaining yourself.”**

“I’ve got it, Sherlock. Any idea as to when all hell breaks loose?” John was clam and the most capable man Sherlock had ever known.

**[Sherlock's voice] “As soon as possible, John.”**

John could feel the stress in Sherlock’s voice.

_[S7] Smith approaches._

**[Sherlock's voice] “John, I have to stop speaking through the computer, but I will be listening. You are not alone, John. You are never alone, remember that.”**

“S7,” John said, “tea and biscuits for two.”

_[S7] Affirmative, order received and processed._

John pulled the tablet into his lap and looked for the games. He had to make sure that his part of Sherlock’s plan was working properly.

(-_-) 

Sherlock had been up for days. His hacking abilities strained to the limit, putting huge demands on his homeless network, he was juggling so many balls he had forgotten how many were in the air.

John was safe for the moment. Now he had to get a complete handle on this Smith woman, her connection to Moriarty and figure out what to do next.

The door down stairs opened and youthful footsteps jumped the stairs two at a time. The door to the flat came open and a young man in his early twenties came in. He was about John’s height with sandy blonde hair and dark brown eyes. He was dressed in casual wear and wearing a determined smile. Scout wasn’t his real name, just what he went by on the streets. 

“What have you got for me, Scout?” Sherlock addressed his youthful lieutenant.

“Loads of things, Captain,” Scout said. (Captain was a term of respect that all his street lieutenants called Sherlock.) “The building that Doc is being held in is extremely high security but we’ve got more people on the ground who are infiltrating it right now. We have broken into the outer areas and with your help we will be in to Doc within the 20 minutes.”

Sherlock’s mobile rang. He was listening to John via his ear bud, so he used his opposite ear to hear the caller. 

“Holmes,” Sherlock said answering the ring. “I’m clearly am not in need of your proposals and excuses. You and your department owe me. I will go above your head and, oh yes, wait a minute I could have your head because the information that I know about your inner circle is really scandalous. So unless you are willing to endure the fallout that my informative email to your immediate superiors will provoke... Good. I look forward to you following my every directive for the next 10 hours.”

Scout looked at Sherlock questioningly.

“MI5, they will be taking the wet part of this recovery. The homeless network is just going to be doing the snatch and grab.”

“Spooks owe you favors? You travel in mighty strange circles, Captain.”

“They will be following my orders to the letter. Get us a cab, Scout. We are going to the Smith building to assist in the extraction.”

“Aye, Captain.” Scout brought his Sherlock provided mobile and speed dialed a cabbie who was part of Sherlock’s network.

Sherlock grabbed his satellite-enabled tablet and a gun stowing them into a leather carryall, which he slung over his shoulder. They exited the flat and found their cab waiting for them on the corner.

“Captain, you looked tired. You sure you don’t want to sit this one out?”

“Scout, John is in there. From the data I’ve found on the woman, Quardis Smith, she is even more venomous than Moriarty. If Moriarty was the King of spiders, this woman is the Queen of all Black Widows.”

They stepped into their cab and it sped through the streets of London, hell bent for the Smith building. The night sky began to rain as they turned a corner to enter the buildings underground parking garage. Shots rang out as one of the cabs tires exploded. The cab careened into the building, smashing on impact.

“Oh my, said the spider to the fly. Oh my,” Quardis Smith commented as she watched her men look for survivors of the crash. “Oh my, Sherlock Holmes.”

“No one here, Smith,” one of her men informed her through her hands free earpiece, “no one at all.”

Quardis Smith was not amused.

“Spread out, search the area. I want them found. I want them found now.” Her voice a razors cut against the ears; her tone a lethal incarnation of death itself. She was a woman who was not to be crossed. She had never lost in any game she played.

(-_-)

The tea and biscuits John had ordered arrived as Smith came back into the room.

“Tea?” John held up a full cup and saucer to his captor. “I’m not sure how fresh the biscuits are but then I have little control over that.”

Smith took the offered tea.

“John, dear John, your friend is attempting a rescue. Did you know about that?”

“I’m pretty much sequestered here, if you haven’t noticed. How would I know anything?”

Smith is not quite as tall as John. Like Moriarty, there was something cold and dead about her dark eyes. Her smile was oily, without a hint of true friendliness. 

John felt his flesh crawl as she sat next to him on the bed, the tablet between them. She was in his personal space; she seemed to love making him feel uncomfortable.

“Moriarty said you were like Siamese twins joined at your fragile hearts.” She laughs at her own little joke. “How does it feel to have taken down the world’s only consulting criminal? He was something magnificent wasn’t he?”

“I dunno the only times I met him he was trying to blow me up or pretending he was Rich Brook; a persona that turned out to be absolutely fraudulent,” John answered honestly.

“I can see why Holmes fancies you, John. You are uncommonly brave, but then it’s probably in your DNA, not only a military background, but from a long line of highly decorated military officers. For Queen and country and now for Sherlock Holmes; you are a man of grand loyalties, John Watson.”

“You know quite a bit about me. If you know anything at all about Sherlock, you know he’s a madman who doesn’t suffer criminally inclined fools.” John caught himself up. Sherlock had told him not to antagonize Smith. She was pushing his buttons. Be charming, John, be very charming. “So what are our plans for this evening, Smith?”

“Please call me Quardis, John. I think a little picnic would be nice on a rainy night like tonight, don’t you?”

“I’m not really going to be much fun in the rain with a sprained ankle, Quardis.” John didn’t know if the rescue attempt was happening now or was this more of Smiths’ subterfuge?

(-_-)

Having escaped the ambush, Sherlock and Scout were in the Smith building. Scout was someone Sherlock trusted, and he had worked well with his idol before on other cases. 

Ordered around by a civilian, by a young civilian who appeared to be barely out of high school had the MI5 men ruffled to the core. What was upper management thinking of putting Holmes in charge of anything. Yes, he’d helped in a vast array of Intel operations and yes, he was great at ‘decoding’ the tangled web that was international maelstrom of information the sometimes only he had the ability to decipher. He was a walking, talking computer algorithm that everyone had to get an appointment to get access to, but handle a dangerous retrieval op. No way. 

“Did you NOT get the memo from your superiors?” Sherlock was going to be livid in a moment. Sherlock did not like to use MI5 people in the first place. His homeless network was great at following his orders precisely. There were people from every social strata in his network and he utilized them whenever he could. There, quite possibly, was going to be a firefight in this extraction. MI5 would be the best thing to put between Smith’s people and his own. 

“We’ve got the building plans; we’ve scoped the place out, my people are already inside.” Scout put as much authority in his voice as he could muster. “We are going to proceed with or without you. Without your assistance there will be blood spilt, my people are totally unarmed.”

“And I assure you that I will personally make it my duty to inform the press that MI5 knew of this event beforehand and let the violence occur without lifting a finger. You, your superiors and your entire organization will suffer from a publicity meltdown that will make the country wonder if we really need such an incompetent organization in charge of things.” Sherlock said as he looked at ‘Adam’, the MI5 leader, with a glacial glare that would have re-frozen the entire planet 12 times.

Adam examined Holmes critically, gave a sigh and buckled down to do his job albeit with much concern on his part about interfacing with untrained civilians.

The MI5 agents entered the building at strategic points Sherlock had predetermined. They did have a warrant and made nice-nice with Smith’s people initially. They did enter peaceably but things went south fast as the word got out that they were looking for John. The agents started to flush Smith’s people out floor by floor, blocking any exit of the building from all the floors above thirteen. No one was coming down to interfere with the rescue. The homeless were already inside waiting for the all clear, but the agents never saw a single one. Sherlock had his people scour the interior gathering Intel that he requested. Sherlock wanted information as well as John back and his people would have no qualms about getting it for him; whereas MI5 would not have wanted to share any intelligence gathered. Onward to the 13th floor and bringing John home. The plans Sherlock had initiated were followed to the letter. There was minimal damage to anyone of concern and the entire project proceeded. Adam and his people were quietly flabbergasted. No one had thought the plan would work, but no one had reckoned with Sherlock Holmes. You didn’t go against him lightly; he was the devil in everyone’s details. The agents reached the 13th floor as Sherlock’s people were already exiting. Their respective jobs completed, it was all over but the celebratory party.

(-_-)

John was not in a good place. Quardis Smith sat next to him as she had put the very important tablet on a nearby table. She was getting very close, too close and she was putting out a vibe. Oh no, John thought, is she being seductive? Maybe you put on too much charm, John, for god’s sake. You don’t want to end up in bed with the black widow!

You can be quite provocative and daring when you want to, John. I’ve heard good things about your sexual prowess too. What does one have to do to get the good Dr. John Watson to show a girl a good time?”

“Releasing me from your prison would be a nice start,” John said rather sarcastically. 

“Oh, I’m not sure you’d want to get out of here right now, but if that will make you feel better, by all means; you have the door.”

‘What the hell did she mean by that,’ John thinks. ‘She wasn’t going to let him just walk out on his own, was she?’

(-_-)

John, faking a bad sprained ankle, got up and gingerly hopped to the door. He opened it to find an immaculate mudroom. The mudroom door opens out onto a large solar room, lit with subdued lighting, it is comfortable and warm, but outside the rain is coming down in torrents. This is a bed and breakfast somewhere in the world. John has no idea where he was. Sure, he could leave the comforts of the solar room, but what then? Where would he go in a downpour that was rather nasty?

John felt Quardis coming up behind him and he held firmly to the door jam. How had she played Sherlock so hard?

(-_-)

‘Adam’, the MI5 agent was beyond angry.

“We have searched this entire twenty story building and Dr. Watson is nowhere to be found. Do you know the amount of paperwork and reports that I’m going to have to generate to explain away this fiasco?”

“Not my problem,” Sherlock said into his face then turned and strode away as if he had some place to go.

Outside the building, Scout had a cab waiting for Sherlock. 

“The ear bud has gone silent, Scout. No further word from John.”

“She copped us good, didn’t she, Capt’n,” Scout was glad that the insertion had gone well, but as frustrated as Sherlock was about not finding John.

“Yes, Scout. She is a pretty slippery fish, this one, but she didn’t count on us gathering info while we were there.”

“Shouldn’t you be getting some rest?” Scout knew his mentor and hero was running on empty after being up for so many days. “I can stay at the flat and guard while you sleep.” A cab pulled up to take them back to Baker Street.

“Admirable, Scout, I think that would be a good idea.” Sherlock took a deep breath and sat back into the cab seat, leaning his head back and closing his eyes. “Have all the information gathered brought to the flat.” 

“Done, Capt’n,” Scout knew how Sherlock worked and tried like hell to keep up with the mad genius.

At the flat there were boxes of ‘collected items’ and Sherlock avoided it all, not want to be tempted into going through them just yet; straight away to bed for him. Scout locked down the house, made sure Mrs. Hudson was safe and snug and then took up residence in Sherlock’s flat. His senses tuned to hear anything out of the ordinary as he looked through the boxes and ordered the items as best he could for Sherlock. Scout and his Homeless network guarded the flat as Sherlock slept. Nothing would go beyond their sight, nothing and no one. 

Four hours exactly and Scout heard Sherlock up and showering.

“Tea and biscuits ready, Capt’n.” Scout was ready for Sherlock. They maneuvered through the mountains of information. It was going to be a long, what was it night. Still no word from John, had his tablet been taken from him?

How the hell had she known that Sherlock had hacked into her computer system? She must have caught the hack and countered it with misinformation. Slippery, yes, she was slippery, but no one got out of the net of Sherlock’s making.

(-_-)

John went back into his room. Going out into weather like this was never going to work for him. Quardis followed him back in.

“It is late, I’m feeling rather tired,” John commented hoping Quardis would take the hint.

“Then I shall give you some space.” She said as she ran her fingers over John’s hair and down to caress his face as she gazed into his midnight blue eyes.

John didn’t flinch. Inside, he struggled not to shutter at her attempts at intimacy. He turned and moved back to the bed. The tablet still lay where he had left it. He sat on the bed. Not looking at the tablet at all.

“You said you were offering me my freedom, but an offer that can’t be taken isn’t really an offer now, is it?”

Her wicked smile returned. She was playing John just as she had played Sherlock. 

“You speak your mind, I like that about you. Brave, outspoken, maybe I should keep you. Moriarty said that ordinary people make such great pets. Would you like to be mine pet, John?”

“Moriarty was an insane maniac and I’m not Sherlock’s pet. We are equals, friends, something that I doubt you would know anything about. You are as twisted and malignant as Moriarty you could be twins. You’re out of your league. Sherlock is on to your little games. You may have outsmarted him once, but he’s no fool. He’ll get you in the end, whether I live or die. He will win.”

Quardis came forward and backhanded John so hard he tumbled back against the bed.

“No one outsmarts me. No one!” Her dark, dead eyes were unreadable. The wicked smile became a vicious predatory look.

‘Damn it you’ve gone too far.’ John thinks to himself. ‘Don’t push her past her point of no return. You don’t want Sherlock to find you dead because you couldn’t keep your mouth shut.’

John sat up and wiped a small trickle of blood from his busted lip. The tension in the air was acute, what would she do now? John took a deep breath, kept eye contact with her. He could see the pulse at her carotid artery pumping hard. Any moment now, would she do her worst?

(-_-)

Sherlock ransacked information from Smith’s network. He was working on getting her servers under his control. Checking all data multiple times to confirm veracity. 

Mobile phones became the weapon of choice for his homeless network. [His corporate clients had endlessly deep pockets.] Now Patch Captains each had one or more mobiles depending on how big their patch was. The homeless network was more vibrant than ever before. Information flowed and the net was closing in on Smith.

Scout was doing perimeter checks around the area. Making sure Mrs. Hudson had everything she needed and was okay. Sherlock was more and more concerned about his growing ‘family’ of people who he respected and cared for. Never again would he allow John or anyone else to become a victim of fate and fall into the hands of dangerous people.

Sherlock was finally getting a good grip on Smith’s entire empire when his texting ringtone chimed.

I think we need to talk. Quardis Smith

Sherlock lifted the mobile and read the screen, then closed his eyes for just a second. Was this bad news?

(-_-)

Sherlock replied.

When, were—soonest—Watson must be in attendance: SH

Tonight, 10pm @ Emperor’s hall. Quardis Smith

Sherlock didn’t reply. Quardis knew that he would come, no matter what. John’s life was all that mattered now. How to prepare for the unexpected? Quardis and Sherlock had been dancing around for some time now. It was imperative that Sherlock get the upper hand.

Sherlock logged onto a highly sophisticated and utterly secretive web site that didn’t exist, Serpent’s Tooth. 

He signs in as Lord Digital Death. Sherlock not only has his homeless network. He also has his digital network of international hackers and crackers, who work with him tirelessly. His relationship with this group is not their leader. There is no leader of this vast complex conglomeration of computer genius’. Many of their varied missions involved dispatching power when it was no longer in service of the world’s inhabitants.

Lord Digital Death: Possible mole in play. Compartmentalize info. Bring protocol 221z up and running. How is ‘spoof’ progressing?

Server Cylindrical: ‘spoof’ switchover at your command. Power surge completed 0800 hours yesterday. Good luck, Lord Digital Death. Orders received and initiated. Mole for dinner with tea.

Sherlock knew that if there was a mole in his computer organization his people would find him/her quickly. Serpent’s Tooth didn’t tolerate traitors within their midst. The traitor would be, quite literally, terminated by the force of the organizations zeal. Serpent’s Tooth wasn’t something that he’d yet shared with John. Besides being completely clandestine, illegal and unethical, it was probably something John wouldn’t want to know about, plausible deniability.

His computer team had set up a ‘spoof’; they had infiltrated Smith’s servers. Her operations were too large to take down in pieces. The ‘spoof’ option had seemed the best. During a faked power surge, her entire system had been mirrored onto the Serpent’s Tooth servers, much easier to do, and an identical site was now showing on Smith’s system, but this spoof site was totally under the control of Serpent’s Tooth. The entire system would blow upon command. Taking all data and resources out and not allow reconstruction because all back-up and redundant information would be utterly flashed out of existence, but still in Serpents Tooth’s servers. This would give Sherlock the upper and only hand.

That gave him confidence going in, but there had to be contingency plans. How was John doing now? He couldn’t give himself the time to think about that, about John. Focusing on the meeting place was his best option right now.

He pulled up the plans for the Emperors’ Hall. A relatively small deserted space that was no longer in use. Why there? Why is she comfortable on a stage?

(-_-)

Left alone to nurse his split lip and the beginnings of a bruise on his jaw, John is glad to be rid of Smith, she had a kickass right cross. Not too much damage considering the maniacal female had been raging. Why had she been raging?

He remembered saying:

“Moriarty was an insane maniac and I’m not Sherlock’s pet. We are equals, friends, something that I doubt you would know anything about. You’re as twisted and malignant as Moriarty you could be twins. You’re out of your league. Sherlock is on to your little games. You may have outsmarted him once, but he is no fool. He will get you in the end, whether I live or die. He will win.”

Something in there was a bitter truth for Smith. Something that quite possibly Sherlock could use against her.

Pulling the tablet from the table, he sat with it on his lap. Should he chance trying to contact Sherlock? What the hell, he was the captive of a maniac; most likely, he was destined to die at her hands. He had to do whatever he could help save Sherlock.

“Sherlock,” he spoke to the tablet after setting the voice mode back on. “Sherlock, are you there.”

**“John!” Sherlock’s enthusiastic voice came to him.**

“I’m sure that Smith has compromised the computer connection, Sherlock. There is something that I need to tell you; very important.” John rushed to tell Sherlock what had happened and what she had said.

**“Thank you, John. I will look into it. Are you okay? I will be seeing you tonight, she has set up a meeting and I will do whatever is necessary to free you.”**

“I’m okay.” John didn’t know what else to say. “Listen, you need to work on your plans. I know you have many. I will see you tonight.”

Sherlock broke the connection and John felt a little broken inside too. Seeing Sherlock was his only desire. 

(-_-)

Sherlock readied himself for the evening meeting. He researched the information that John had given him. Scout, was waiting with a trusted cabbie. They drove toward the hall. Scout stayed with the cab and they circled the structure staying out of reach of prying eyes, but within easy reach if Sherlock needed them.

Sherlock entered, the outer doors conveniently unlocked. Inside the empty hall, he found John sitting in a chair on the small minimalist stage. 

“Sherlock!” John stood a huge smile on his face, his bruised and swollen face. 

“She will pay for injuring you, John.” Sherlock commented as he came close. He gripped John by the arms and then took him into a hug.

“So more than just friends are we? Smith slithered out of the darkness. Her black leather outfit impressively touched with red piping. She literally was to die for, her beauty tainted by her toxic soul.

“Let’s stop with playing these little games, shall we. Just what is it you want Smith?” Sherlock pushed John behind him as he looked at the megalomaniac on stage dressed in couture leathers.

“I want you bloodied and broken at my feet. I want to see you die by my hand.” Quardis pulled two wicked looking knives from behind her back.

“Ah, I see. I took the information you provided me with John and found some interesting facts. Quardis Smith was more than an associate of Moriarty’s, much more.”

The bitch spat at Sherlock. 

“See, John, we’ve struck a raw nerve. She was his lover…a very sick lover.”

Quardis came forward her knives at the ready.

Sherlock stood between her and John. “They were lovers and half brother and sister. Same mother different fathers.”

“So that’s why, when I said they could be twins, I almost had it right.” John said. “That is pretty damn sick, even for Moriarty.”

She threw the damn knives. Sherlock twisted to push John out of the harm’s way; one missed the other lodged in Sherlock’s right upper arm.

Smith’s people advanced in to give her cover. Mycroft’s people came in behind John and Sherlock. It was going to be a right good row. John dragged Sherlock as far away from the center of things as he could manage.

“Argyle,” Sherlock said to no one in particular.

“What?” John asked as they jumped for cover behind a barricade of ancient metal theater chairs.

“A word to end Smith’s empire and hopefully end her,” Sherlock said with conviction as he showed a small microphone on his great coat. 

“You will tell me who you were talking to? Sherlock don’t touch that knife,” John said, as he was looking about for something to bind the wound, but Sherlock had already pulled it free and was trying to stanch the blood flow. 

“Sherlock, will you ever learn to listen to me?”

The gunfire had ended and there was a mob-up team working on the scene to well, mob-up.

“John, I always listen to you. Always. Taking your advice is another matter. I’m not walking round with a knife sticking out of me.”

“I guess having Mycroft for a brother does have its perks?” John said as he applied direct pressure to the wound.

“Mr. Holmes, we have an ambulance waiting for you outside.” A man in black ops military garb notified him.

“And Smith?” Sherlock asked warily, his eyes laser sharp upon the man.

“We believe she was injured in the skirmish, but she has not been detained.” The man said with growing apprehension.

“She has not been detained,” Sherlock mimicked the soldier and scowled at the same time. “Rest assured that Mycroft will be informed of this cock-up as soon as I can speed dial his number.” 

“And with that I think we need to get you to hospital, Sherlock, before you bleed all over this nice black op gentleman who already knows he’s in for a shite storm.” John said as he pulled Sherlock toward the exit. “My abduction has been fairly mind numbing Sherlock, how about filling me in on what the hell’s been going on?”


	2. Lord Digital Death

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The knife wound proves to be deadly. John is introduced to Serpents Tooth. Sherlock puts John on point during this case.

Sherlock was injured at the end of their last adventure (a knife thrown at John was deflected by Sherlock as he protects his partner); John has brought Sherlock to hospital to have the knife wound tended to. They had been in the hospital for many hours now. Sherlock knew that something was wrong. John kept talking to different people in the hallway. Sherlock knew John was very upset and it wasn’t a minor thing, it is something big. John finally came back into the hospital room and sat down next to Sherlock. He looks as if someone has just killed his best friend.

“John?” Sherlock had been more than patient than he’d ever been. Now he gives John the time to gather himself up, as this isn’t going to be good news.  


“The knives that Quardis Smith threw at us; they were coated with something, Sherlock. We’re not sure what it is yet, but it’s working on you, it’s killing you, slowly. The doctors want to put you on dialysis but I’m not sure that’s the best plan. I’ve put in a call to Mycroft. We need all the help we can get right now, Sherlock. We are going to call in every favor owed to us.”

Sherlock took in the information and looked at his bandaged right upper arm. So the Black Widow spider had done her worst. She had meant to kill John, but killing Sherlock was also on her agenda, so she may have got half her wish.

“Is there anything more that needs to be done here? Can we go home? You can take care of me there can’t you, John?”

Sherlock could see the hesitation in John’s eyes. John would be happier with Sherlock at hospital with all the medical equipment at hand. “Yes. Yes, of course, I can. I’ll get the paper work started. You get dressed.”

“Thank you, John,” Sherlock said with great gravity.

“Pardon?” John wasn’t sure why Sherlock was thanking him.

“For keeping your brave face on, I know you think this is a death sentence.”

“Unless we can find out what’s happening it may very well be.” John let his brave face waver for just a moment and Sherlock saw that the brave doctor was terrified for him.

They went through the paperwork, the mind numbing hospital procedures and on the cab ride home Sherlock spoke to John about the half of Quardis Smith case that he had missed during his capture. He also revealed his other network, Serpent’s Tooth. Properly blown away, John showed his amazement at how easily Sherlock fit into a hacker’s life style.

Getting back home was a relief and Sherlock went to the kitchen to put the kettle to boil. Life was comfortable again. He got the teacups ready and soon had everything out on a tray in the living room where John sat waiting. Sherlock poured and then sat across from John.

“When can we expect to see deterioration?” Sherlock needed data, immediately.

“It’s happening now, Sherlock.” John was being as frank as he knew Sherlock needed him to be.

“And before you ask, I can’t tell you too much about exactly when it will debilitate you or to what degree. We’re sure it’s not a chemical agent, but we are totally clueless about what it is. Mycroft has his people working on this and you know how determined he can be. He’ll have information to us as soon as he can.”

“Since my mental capacities may be compromised at any time. I think that you should take point on this case, John.”

“Sherlock?” John was going to question his decision.

“John, you know that I’m correct in this. You have to consider me already compromised. You can’t rely upon me. Not this time.”

John acquiesced. It was not what he wanted, but they had to face facts. Sherlock was right; he was compromised in this their most desperate of cases.

Sherlock sipped his tea.

“John, can you call Kaplan, that attorney who owes us a favor. I want to set in place a power of attorney with you as my executor. I won’t have Mycroft in charge of me should the worst happen.”

“We are going to get on top of this, Sherlock,” John said with conviction.

“Just in case we run out of time, John, as you said we have no idea when things will go sideways.”

“Okay, I’ll contact him.”

Sherlock pulled up his laptop and logged on to the non-existent web site called ‘Serpent’s Tooth’. He typed in his password and signed on as Lord Digital Death.

“John, the homeless network will be at your disposal and you will find the people of Serpent’s Tooth will rally around you also.  
“Audio access,” Sherlock intoned.

“This is Server Cylindrical, Lord,” a female voice that was mechanically altered came from the computer.

“Cylindri, I’d like you to meet Perfect Parameter, I’ve spoken of him before. Say hello to Cylindri, Parameter.” Sherlock said indicating to John. “Don’t worry our voices are altered as well as hers.”

“Hello,” John ventured to the computer.

“We have voice data, would you look directly at the computer please,” Cylindri said.

John looked at Sherlock, who motioned him to comply. John opened his eyes and peered into the camera on the computer.

“Retinal scan complete; Parameter you have total access to Serpent’s Tooth by audio.

“I want you to keep this port open for Parameter,” Sherlock said in calmly. Though he wasn’t feeling very calm.

Sherlock explained succinctly the entire situation and that John would be taking point on this case.

“Understood, Lord, can we have access to samples of the substance in question? There are vast numbers of ST members who will begin work on determining what the substance is.”

“Yes, I have samples available. How shall I get these to you?” John was eager to get as many people as possible working on the analysis.

“You will be contacted soon, Cylindri out.”

“When you call Cylindri by name you will active the voice contact,” Sherlock said.

The doorbell rang.

“You’re not telling me,” John said disbelieving. “I’ll take the samples down.” He lifted the samples and took them to the door. A bicyclist was there.

“Pick up from Mr. Parameter.” The young man on the bike said. John gave over the samples.

“Doesn’t that say that Cylindri knows where we are?” John asked as he came back into the flat.

“We all know more than we say, John; whenever we can hide behind masks, pseudonyms and altered voices, we do so. Now John, I’m very tired, I need you to help me into bed.”

John looked at Sherlock. His porcelain skin was nearly ghost-like in its paleness and there were tiny tremors in his elegantly long fingers.

“Are you in pain?” John asked.

“I’ve turned all pain receptors off, John.” Sherlock said with a tiny hint of a sarcastic smile on his full lips.

John rushed to Sherlock’s side, helping him to stand and make it the short distance to his bedroom.

It had begun.


	3. Not expected this at all

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sherlock is being cared for by his friends. Everything goes pear shaped.

John situated Sherlock in bed.

“Sherlock, I need to go out and pick up some medical supplies in case we need things. I’m going to ask Mrs. Hudson to look after you for a short time. I’ll explain to her what’s happening.”

“Do what you need to do, John. I’m sure Mrs. Hudson and I can manage for a while,” Sherlock said. He was convinced that he would have to depend on his ‘friends’ now more than ever. He could feel a weakness coming over him. He hoped that it didn’t affect his thinking as well as his body; John needed his brain to stay agile and competent. He wanted to help if possible.

John went down to Mrs. Hudson’s flat. Then Mrs. Hudson walked up the stairs to their flat.

“ **Sher** lock,” she said. She had that peculiar way of saying his name as if it were a question and an answer all in the same word.

Sherlock opened his crystal blue electric eyes and they fell upon the visage of his landlady and surrogate mother.

“Mrs. Hudson, so good to see you, I was wondering if you could help me to the bathroom, I’d like to freshen up a bit.”

“Why, I’ll run a nice hot bath and we can wash your hair and you can have a good soak. That always makes me feel better and you can call me Beatrice, dear. B for short. No need for formalities in times like this.” She gave Sherlock her most loving smile. Sherlock sees how competent she is at caring for people. How warm, gentle and wonderfully kind she is. He’d had none of that growing up and now he basked in that feeling and the great goodness of this woman whom he cared about more than he could say. She pulled out his silk robe and his slippers.

“Now, you get undressed and I’ll run the bath.” She walked off to get the bathtub full.

Sherlock undressed and examined his life. Was Smith’s poison, going to kill him? If it did, he was glad he had these moments with B, the friendship of John and Molly and Greg and all the other people in his life that he realized meant so much to him. He wanted to thank them all for putting up with his prattling on, with his insufferable, overarching feelings of superiority, with his blasted acidic truth. B came in and helped him stand. He placed his arm around her, leaning some of his weight on her smaller frame.

“Dancer, a long time dancer, quite a bit of body muscle you have there, B,” Sherlock said. His touch could tell him so much. She laughed at how easily information flowed into him.

Sherlock settled into the over long tub which he’d had placed in the flat. His long form filled it out and oh how great it felt to just sink into the hot water. B began tittering about, washing Sherlock’s hair, then towel drying it for him.

“How will I ever go back to tending to myself, after such grand treatment?” Sherlock was so appreciative of her assistance.

“You’ll go back to being what you’ve always been, Sherlock, the most interesting and outrageous man in all of London.” B helped him from the tub. Assisted in the drying process and dressed him for bed.

Sherlock settled into his bed and B went to fetch him a bowl of homemade soup from down stairs.

(-_-)

John returned with supplies that he hand-carried. He’d ordered some supplies to be would be delivered later. Coming back into the flat he found Mrs. Hudson sitting next to Sherlock’s bed as he slept.

“How’s he doing,” John spoke in whispered tones.

A look of inconsolable sadness passed across her face.

“Oh, John, I’m afraid that he’s slipping away from us.”

“What is it, Mrs. Hudson.” John was frantic to know what had changed.

She began to weep then, soft sniffles and hot, wet tears that ran down her beautifully worn face.

John lifted her up and held her tight against him as she buried her face into his shoulder. He exhaled softly and cradled her head to him.

“We’ll work things out, Mrs. Hudson. Whatever the problem is we’ll find answers.”

Sherlock roused at the gentle words uttered in his bedroom.

“Hello,” Sherlock said looking up from his bed. “I see you like this nice lady as I do. She is such a remarkable woman. She’s taking such good care of me.”

“Are you okay, Sherlock?” John looked to his companion.

“Do I know you,” Sherlock asked his eyes wide and childlike.

“I’m John, Sherlock, your friend, John Watson.”

“Sorry, but I can’t seem to place you. Are you sure that we’ve met before?”

John was heartsick. He’d not expected this at all.


	4. He Shall Have Us

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Things go terribly wrong. John needs a face to face with Mycroft and Mrs. Hudson takes charge.

John knew that making Sherlock suffer before he died was Smith’s goal, but this was worse than he could have imagined. Sherlock’s mind was everything, what was he without his computer-like brain? Reduced to being a child, Sherlock became a child who needed protecting.

Mrs. Hudson had gotten a hold of herself. John wiped the last tear from her face, looked at her and whispered.

_“He needs us more than ever now.”_

She nodded, the steel in her resolve was apparent now. She was made of strong stuff.

_“And he shall have us,”_ she spoke. Coming close to the bed she said, “My name is B and I’ve been here helping you, remember Sherlock?”

“Yes, I remember now, you helped me with my bath. Thank you, B. Are you my mother?”

“For now, dear, I can be anyone you want me to be.” She smiled and patted his head of dark curls. Sherlock could not have been in better hands.

“And John, I’m sorry my memory is a bit ragged right now. I will try to remember better. You have to be my brother, I feel so much better now that you are here.” Sherlock took John’s hand and gripped it warmly. Gently he pulled John to the edge of the bed and gave him a warm hug. He held John for a long time and John knew that Sherlock needed that comforting contact. John reciprocated, holding Sherlock with a firm and loving hug.

“Yes, Sherlock, we are here to help you. I’m also a doctor and I’d like to examine you if you don’t mind?”

Sherlock nodded his consent. John went into his bedroom and retrieved his doctor’s bag. He did a thorough physical exam and found Sherlock’s vitals normal. Outwardly, he seemed to be in good shape.

“I think we need to schedule an MRI, Mrs. Hudson.”

“B, dear,” she corrected John.” 

“I’ll stay with him.” B said now taking total possession of her charge. Sherlock would not be out of her care until he was better. Her momentary tears making her even more the complete mother that Sherlock needed.

John pulled out his mobile and moved into the living room.

“Saint Thomas’s Hospital,” he said into the voice activated automated dialer.

“Parameter,” a voice emanated from the computer.

John closed his mobile and turned his full attention to Cylindri.

“Cylindri, I know Sherlock is very into the whole cloak and dagger thing, but I’d much prefer to speak in my own voice and my name is John. Fairly common name, so I’m sure it wouldn’t be any kind of give away. I hope you understand?”

“I understand fully, John,” a perky female voice said, “and you can call me Cindy.”

“Thanks,” John said, “I appreciate your understanding. Have any of your people found anything?”

“Yes and I’m afraid that it’s not good.”

“Well, he’s already experiencing memory loss, so that’s pretty bad. Okay, I’m sitting down.” John sat and looked to the computer.

“It’s a man-made vector that blocks sites on DNA.”

“Oh my god,” John was gob smacked. “So there is no cure?”

“We have to find out who make this and to see if it can be undone.” Cindy’s voice was concerned. “Serpent’s Tooth is at your service, John. Whatever we can do shall be done.”

“What will they think of next? Attacking on a DNA level.” John was momentarily speechless. “Can you determine if there are any other possible affects?”

“We’re working on it, it is after all code. Human code,” Cindy said.

“I’ll notify Mycroft,” John was trying to push through his mental paralysis.

“No need, John. I’ll take care of that,” Cindy said. “Your time is better spent at working keeping Sherlock okay.”

“Any news on Smith and her empire?”

“Smith’s empire is in shambles; her assets have been drained into various bank accounts worldwide. I think you’ll find that you join account with Sherlock has been vastly increased as well. If money is ever an issue Serpent’s Tooth will back your financial needs.”

“Thank you, Cindy. I’ll be in touch.” John was in action mode now. John flipped open his mobile and said “Scout” to the auto dialer. A young man answered.

“Yes, Capt’n,” Scout was one of Sherlock’s trusted lieutenants. He worked tirelessly for Sherlock on many difficult cases. His Intel on street information was of tremendous importance. Sherlock was even mentoring him. Scout was devoted to Sherlock.

John explained the situation and gave Scout orders on collecting any information about inquiries concerning Sherlock’s current condition. He was pretty sure that Smith would want to know if her toxic vector was affecting Sherlock.

John turned back to Sherlock’s bedroom. B was reading to Sherlock, Shakespeare. Shea was such a treasure. Sherlock was listening intently. Seeing John enter the room, B stopped reading. 

“How are you feeling, Sherlock?” John asked.

“I feel like I should be doing something, John, even though I know I’m home. Is there something that needs my attention?”

“No, Sherlock, you need to stay here with B. She’s going to take good care of you.” Turning to B he said, “Molly is coming to help you. She’s already called to volunteer her time.”

“That would be fine, John. Are you going to be out?”

“Yeah,” John said. “I want to see Mycroft. He hasn’t been in touch, which is not like him. I want to see why he isn’t more concerned about his younger brother and I want to see his face when I ask him why?”

John exited the flat and flagged down a cab, “Diogenes Club, 10 Wellington Lane.”

John’s mobile rang. The caller ID was blocked.

“Can he remember your name?” A darkly demonic female voice crackling with happy revenge asked.

“Smith, you vile, venomous arse,” John is so angry.

“Don’t worry, John, his memory with fade in and out. He’ll know that he’s losing his mind and there won’t be anything that any of you can do to stop it!” She cackled like the insane bitch that she was and as the line went dead John’s heart hurt.

John closed his eyes; he would not let the hot tears form in them. Sherlock, he had to save Sherlock and if he had to kill the bitch to save him, he’d do it! He would do anything to make sure Sherlock was safe.


	5. Memory of You

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> John confronts Mycroft. Sherlock remembers. Mrs. Hudson rules.

John arrived at the Diogenes Club and went directly to the meeting room where he could talk to Mycroft.

Mycroft entered the room drew himself a scotch and offered John something, but John waved him off. Sitting across from John, he took a sip of his drink and settled into his luxurious wingback leather chair.

“What can you tell me about ‘Serpent’s Tooth’?” he began.

John stared at him in disbelief and total shock.

“Don’t you give a shite about your brother, your dying brother?”

Mycroft looked a bit wrong footed but not put out entirely.

“I know that you’re working diligently on the case, John. I have every confidence in you and I do have my people working on this matter too. We have been looking into this Smith woman, but there isn’t much left of her organization. I am concerned. Serpent’s Tooth, however, has never been on my radar so I am very much interested in knowing all I can about this organization that Sherlock heads. If you’d rather not share, I understand completely.”

“He doesn’t run the organization, Mycroft. It has no leader. That is all I can tell you at this moment because that is all I know.” John was bordering on rage.

“I can see that I’ve upset you, John. That was not my intent.” Mycroft tries to smooth over his initial miss step. “How is Sherlock?”

“He’s physical weak, but mentally, he can’t remember me or Mrs. Hudson.” John swipes his eyes in frustration and Mycroft can see that he is under severe stress.

“That is disturbing, isn’t it,” Mycroft didn’t skip a beat, showing no emotion, no change at all in his visage.

“Do you think you could spare a moment of your very busy day and stop by to look in on him?” John asks with great reserve.

“Of course, I will stop by today, John.” 

John wondered how many major international events he was putting on hold so that Mycroft could stop to see his brother. He didn’t care. He wanted to see if Sherlock could remember his brother. Quardis had said that he would come in and out of his memory. He hoped he was going to come back to his memory soon. He missed his Sherlock, missed him with a great sadness in his heart. Whatever Sherlock’s fate, John knew that he would be there to take care of him, no matter what.

“Well then, I have to get back to him. I just wanted to see you in person about this matter.”

“I understand you concern, John, and appreciate you taking the time to come by.” As ever, Mycroft showed no emotion as John stood to leave.

John left the club and got a cab back home, up the stairs and into the flat. John removed his coat hanging it on the coat hook. Sherlock was still in bed, viewing his laptop as B was puttering around in the kitchen making lunch. John entered Sherlock’s bedroom.

“Hello, Sherlock, would you like some lunch?”

“John,” Sherlock turned a knowledgeable gaze upon John. 

“You recognize me?” John was bordering on hysterically happy.

“You may, in fact, hug me once if you’d like to relieve that inner need.” Sherlock said looking at John and smiling knowingly.

John came forward sitting on the edge of the bed and grabbed Sherlock into a loving embrace. Sherlock acquiesced and hugged John back.

“I’m glad, very glad to be back too, John, but I’m not sure how long I will be here. I know I’m fading in and out and we need to get to this vector as soon as we can before I disappear again.”

“Right you are, Sherlock.” John suppresses an overwhelming smile and tears of joy make his eyes sparkle.

“I see that you’ve been talking to Cindy directly. I’ve followed your lead and have been working with her on the case. I take it that you have badgered Mycroft into a visitation sometime soon?”

“Yeah, I went to see him and he was much more interested in Serpent’s Tooth than how you were doing.”

“That isn’t surprising, John. He has always been more interested in what I’m into; he already monitors my life whenever he can. It’s his priority, always will be.”

“So Cindy, can you do a brief recap of your latest report for John.” Sherlock said speaking to the computer on his bedside table.

“We have good news and bad,” she began. 

“I’d like the bad news first, please, if you don’t mind,” John replied.

“Bad news is we think that there is a time factor on when the reversal of the vector can happen, possible degradation of the vector involved.”

“That’s pretty bad and the good news?” John was hoping it was impossibly good news, anything to counter the very bad, bad news.

“The good news is that we’ve got several people who are working to decrypt the coding on the vector. They are pretty keen on it being a doable thing within the next few days, but they are going to have to appropriate 80% of the world’s computers to get the computing power that they need to do the calculations.”

“Do it,” John says without compunction.

“No hesitation, John. We will be doing something unethical, illegal and highly questionably,” Sherlock states.

“I don’t care if you have to bloody chin wag god. This gets done.” John left no doubt in anyone’s mind that he was okay with it.

Sherlock smiles in appreciation of John’s loyality, though in his thoughts he is terrified. Losing his mind was something he’d never had to contemplate. Now he could vaguely remember not remembering. Loss of memory would devastate John as well as himself. He was nothing without his mind. He was absolutely nothing.

(-_-)

John watched as Sherlock worked tirelessly with Serpent’s Tooth to find a solution, to find out who had invented the vector and to bring Smith to justice. He sat in the sitting room surrounded by several computers, printers and other equipment that John couldn’t remember being in the flat.

“Sherlock, I think you should rest as much as you can. You don’t want to over stress yourself.”

“John, I have no idea how long I’ll be here to help,” Sherlock snapped. Then realized that the shout was hurtful and uncalled for. “Sorry, John, sorry. I…I seem to have a short fuse. You didn’t deserve that.”

John gave him one of his complex stares. Compassion, concern with huge amounts of forgiveness smothered in gratefulness that ‘his’ Sherlock was being tart. He never wanted to lose this. Never wanted to find that other Sherlock in the flat. The one that couldn’t remember his life.

John turned as B she came into the sitting room she with a tea tray. She was now the formal housekeeper, chief cook and resident mother figure. Setting the tray down, she gently had Sherlock sit forward, placed some fluffy pillows at his back. Easing him onto the pillows and finally placed a steaming cup in his hand.

“You will drink your tea young man. Take a breath and eat a biscuit.”

Sheepishly, Sherlock drank his tea, ate his biscuit as John marveled at the eye of the storm that was Mrs. Hudson.

“I’m resting. Happy now?” Sherlock muttered between bites of his biscuit. 

John was thrilled and knew that Mrs. Hudson would get his vote to help bring about world peace.

After his cuppa, Sherlock looked pale and exhausted.

“I’m putting you to bed Mister and I will not take any lip from you.” John used his command voice leaving no place for refusal.

Sherlock surrendered, allowing John to help him to his bed.

John removed his robe, getting him tucked into bed with pillows supporting him. John took his time adjusting the bedding and making everything to his satisfaction.

Sherlock took John’s wrist and brought him close so that he was sitting by his side. “It’s hard to rest, John. I worry that when I awake I won’t be myself anymore. Not the Sherlock that you know.” Though his face was stoic, Sherlock’s eyes expressed a sad trepidation.

“We will find the answers, the antidote to his problem, Sherlock,” John said. He was Sherlock’s rock, his steel resolve. His unwavering North Star.

Sherlock looked helpless. Not a look John liked on him.

“Will you stay for a while till after I fall sleep?”

John lay down on the bed and took Sherlock into a comforting embrace. Cradling Sherlock’s head against his heart.

Sherlock listened to the steady beating of that brave heart and let himself drift into sleep.

John stayed through the day. When Mrs. Hudson came to draw the drapes across the windows. His sad smile let her know that he was okay. Still holding Sherlock in the arms of love.


	6. Death by demented psycho-bitch?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> John is exhausted. Sherlock fears the future and the threat of Quardis Smith still lingers.

Mycroft came round as he had promised. As ever the conversational temperature cooled while he was present in the flat. John was glad he came and even happier when he left. Before he went, he confirmed to John that his agents were monitoring the flats perimeter to protect Sherlock, John and Mrs. Hudson during this time of Sherlock’s weakened state. All intruders to be detained; the ‘British Government’ had its uses.

Sherlock was still weak and required assistance when he needed to ambulate. Conversely, he was eating a bit and taking brief naps. Though John could tell, he worried whenever he slept. Would he remember who he was when he awoke?

The living room became the war room, John’s central hub of the investigation. Sherlock was now auxiliary assistance, when he could manage it. He accepted his reduced role, but still counted on John to give him updates as soon as they were available. You could take Sherlock out of the investigation, but you couldn’t take the investigation out of Sherlock. 

John was exhausted and brushed his hands through his hair and down across his face. Mrs. Hudson was down in her flat to rest and prepare food for the next day. Molly had just left to rest also. The house locked tight; John came back up stairs to the flat. 

“John,” the computer spoke in Cindy’s voice, his main contact with Sherlock’s hacker community Serpent’s Tooth. John turned the computer to face him and was surprised to find a small inset picture. A bright, young auburn haired woman’s face smiled at him.

“How are you doing John?” 

“Ah, the voice of Serpent’s Tooth has a face now, isn’t this going against your code of anonymity?” John asked smiling at the fresh face looking at him.

“I’m like you, John, the personal touch, the human touch,” her very warm smile gave John a good feeling inside.

“He’s doing okay. We’re doing okay, but we’re worried about how much time we have before it all goes pear-shaped.”

“Understandable. I wanted to let you know that there appear to be some leads on the Smith woman. We have Mycroft’s people on the ground looking into this. We’ve initiated ground level, aerial and satellite surveillance on your block. Not even a cockroach carrying a slime mold could get by us if it wanted to. Rest easy tonight, you are covered and we are all doing everything we can to bring Sherlock back from the brink.”

“Thanks, I appreciate that, Cindy. Sorry, I’m really tired. I’ll give you a shout in the morning or whenever I get up, whichever comes first.”

“See you then, John.”

(-_-)

John changed into his pajamas, brought his blankets and pillow with him as he entered Sherlock’s bedroom.

“Moving in are we?” Sherlock was awake and working on his computer. 

“I’m not leaving you alone. I’ll just kip on the floor for now.” John looked exhausted. 

Before John could plop everything down. “John, there is a perfectly good bed, large enough to accommodate the two of us, kip here.” Sherlock motioned to the empty side of his bed.

“Okay,” John was too bushed to make any argument. “How are you doing?” The look of concern on John’s face made Sherlock’s heartache. 

“I’m alive, John. How are you doing, really?” 

“I’m scared shit-less. This is so beyond my ability to fight. I don’t want to lose you, Sherlock.”

“I don’t want to be lost,” Sherlock, said his face showed fear. Not fear of death, but fear of losing his mind, the thing that made him who he was. Smith had known how to injure them both. She was a clever bitch.

“Come here,” Sherlock asked gently, holding open his arms out to John. “I think we both need something more than just a smile. 

John crawled into bed with Sherlock and they entered into a companionable hug.

“Jeeezeus, Sherlock this is the worst it’s ever been,” John admitted.

“We’ve always make it through the worst as long as we have stood together, John.”

“Yes, we have. I just feel out of my league, Sherlock.” John buried his face in Sherlock’s silk robe and held on for all he was worth.

“John, will you do something for me? In case things go bad. I know you’ll know what to do. I have a small plot of land in the country. I’d like to be cremated and my ashes…”

“No, we are not talking about that right now.” John crushed Sherlock to him. I will not let you go. Do you understand? I will not let you go, not now, not ever! You’re staying right here with me and I don’t want to hear any more bullshit about plots of land and cremation. I’ve buried too many mates and I will not bury you!” Sherlock held John at arm’s length from him for a minute and Sherlock could see the hot tears in John’s eyes as they rolled down his fair cheeks. He was now even more upset than he had been when he’d entered the bedroom. 

“Sorry, John. Sorry. That was poor timing on my part,” Sherlock said.

Sherlock cradled John against his breast. He was sorry that he’d brought it up and felt his own eyes glistening; his tears sought to join John’s, a mingling of sorrows. Sherlock lay with John at his side. They needed to rest and they needed to know that they were together in this. Though Sherlock could feel the tiny tremors beginning in his extremities, he was loath to tell John. It could wait until John had some rest. Sherlock did not want John to lose faith that they would be okay. John had always been his strength, his grounding rock, his steadfast flag of victory over all things, physical, mental and sentiment. Yes, John had always been better at handling those vexatious sentiments. He would try again tomorrow. He had already contacted his solicitor. John would be his sole beneficiary. Sherlock’s portion of the Holmes estate would be his. He had to make these plans, just in case. He would leave John in better shape financially than he’d been before they met. He could do that for him at least. Sherlock closed his eyes and held John in his arms, held hope in his arms as the vector did a little dance inside him. It jiggled and touched him where John could not reach.

(-_-)

Sherlock woke in the middle of the night getting up from the bed he leaned against walls and furniture to make it into the living room. He would use John’s computer so that John could get some needed rest. 

“Cindy,” Sherlock’s beautiful baritone was even more exotic when he whispered softly.

The computer screen came alive.

“Sherlock,” Cindy spoke in her own voice, but didn’t reveal her face.

“How goes the work, any advance on the search for Smith, the antidote,” Sherlock inquired?

“Nothing major at this time, how are things with you?” Concern filled Cindy’s voice.

“I worry about John should this end badly. I have made provisions for his financial security, but he will be vulnerable and...”

“Fear not Sherlock, Serpent’s Tooth will embrace him. He will not be alone and we will see that he is kept safe.”

Sherlock took a deep breath. “My greatest concern is that he will seek to destroy Smith at all costs even at the forfeiture of his own life.”

“I see,” Cindy said quietly, “death by demented psycho-bitch. Not a good end.”

“Clearly,” Sherlock rearranged himself on the couch.

“Then we shall have to neutralize her as quickly as possible,” Cindy replied.

“Who are we neutralizing,” John still sleepy stood in the doorway looking tired and rumbled from bed. “Sherlock you shouldn’t be out of bed without help.” He said that last not in a cross way but with tenderness in his voice.

Cindy’s voice was suddenly enthusiastic. “Sherlock, John,” we’ve come up with a stabilizing agent from one of our members. It’s not an antidote but it will fend off further harm from the vector.” “Small problem, it’s in Nagoya, Japan.”

“No problem,” said John. “I’ll just have one of Mycroft’s people pick it up and deliver it here.” John went back to the bedroom to get his mobile.

“Sherlock, do you want to place John on a lock down? We can keep him from all future actions.” Cindy was anxious about John too.

“You don’t know John well enough Cindy. It would be like trying to keep a typhoon from happening by throwing confetti at it. I’ll see if I can keep him here for other reasons.”

“Oh, so the title of Extreme Bad Ass is for real in regards to John Watson.” Cindy sounded amused.

“That is a thoroughly accurate statement.” Sherlock gives a crooked smile, which is evident in his voice.

Sherlock wished he had some tea and like magic, John came out of the bedroom and started to toward the kitchen.

“I’m going to make some tea, Sherlock, do you think you can manage some food? I have almost anything you could think of. Anthea’s working on transport for the stabilizer, looks like it is going to be a long day, but a good one.

For the first time in what felt like a long time, things were looking not up but at least better. Little did they know that the end was nearer than anyone could guess.


	7. The Fashionable Semtex Vest

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The vector is vectoring. Quardis Smith is on the landing and Sherlock finds to courage to be more that just a friend.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading one of my earlier works. You comments are always welcome. Star

John made a small but adequate breakfast and Sherlock did manage to eat. The morning progressed well. The stabilizer would be in Baker Street in a little more than 7 hours, American as well as British forces were involved in the transportation of the stabilizer. Having family in high places was an asset after all.

Sherlock was watching John intently. 

“Okay, I can feel your eyes boring through me. What is bothering you?” John turned his full attention to Sherlock.

“I want you to stay with me John. I need you here.”

“If Smith shows her arse-ugly-bitch-face in our vicinity I will be going out to smear what’s left of her remains onto the nearest hard surface,” John said with absolute certainty on his face.

“John, there are enough people working on this, Mycroft’s minions, the homeless network and Serpent’s Tooth are up to the task. She won’t get away this time.”

“Yeah, like the last time she ‘didn’t’ get away. Sherlock she threatened to kill me and almost killed you with her hideous vector and it’s still a threat if we can’t find the antidote.” John was not angry with Sherlock. He was firm in his conviction that he would be taking Smith down personally.

“John, I won’t let you be put in harm’s way again. She wants us both dead.” Sherlock is trying very hard to mandate John’s behavior knowing John was a stubborn man.

“Sherlock you know I’m not going to let this pass. No one hurts you, not while I’m breathing.”

Sherlock’s visage softening, vulnerable and unsteady, he reached out toward him. John saw this change and came quickly to his side.

“I can’t lose you, John. It would break me beyond mending. I haven’t spoken the words before. You are more than my friend. So much more. Please, John, please.”

Sherlock didn’t do polite, so using the ‘p’ word was indicative of his sincerity. John took Sherlock’s hands in his and felt tiny tremors emanating there. John gripped Sherlock’s hands more firmly. ‘Was he cold?’

“How long have you had these tremors, Sherlock?”

“Since last night,” came the reply. 

“Shit, why didn’t you tell me?”

“You needed to rest John. I couldn’t bring myself to disturb you.”

“And your excuse this morning? Forget it. Lay down or do you want to go back to the bed?”

“I’d rather stay here, John.” Sherlock repositioned himself on the couch. 

John hurried to the bedroom; pulling the duvet from the bed, he brought it back to cover Sherlock. Then he retrieved his medical bag. The doctor in him took hold and he did a cursory exam of Sherlock.

“Your blood pressure is a bit elevated, but otherwise everything appears okay. How are you feeling?” John could find nothing that warranted a visit to hospital, though he knew if he were smart he would have made Sherlock stay there to begin with.

“I’m going to call Anthea and get an update on where the stabilizer is. We need to get that into you as soon as possible.”

There was gentle rap at the door and B ‘woo-hooed’ as she entered the flat. 

“Sherlock, dear, one of your people is down at the backdoor wanting to talk to you. I asked her to follow me up but she doesn’t want to come in.”

“Sherlock needs to say on the couch, B; I’ll go down and see what she wants.”

“What does she look like?” Sherlock asked.

“She’s fairly covered up in one of those shirts that have a hood on it, an older woman by the sound of her voice.” B advised them.

Sherlock and John looked at one another. John immediately went to the bedroom to get his Browning.

“B stay here with Sherlock.” He handed her his mobile. “If anything happens hit the number one speed dial and tell them you need help now.”

“Oh dear, is something not right?” B took the mobile and thumbed the screen to the speed dial list.

“John, call Mycroft’s people now,” Sherlock was adamant.

“Let me check it out, Sherlock. It might be a real lead.” John is at the door now. “Please lock the door after me, B and don’t open it to anyone but me or Mycroft’s people.”

“John, don’t to this.” Sherlock pleaded from the couch.

John closed the door and made it down the stairs to B’s flat, then through the flat to the back door.

(-_-)

“B give me the mobile,” Sherlock requested.

She turned it over to him. “Is John going to be alright?” She knew that Smith was a real threat to her boys.

Sherlock hit the speed dial. “Anthea, get a full press of minions to Baker Street NOW.” He thumbed the mobile off and stuck it in his silk robe.

Sherlock made to stand and B came to help support him from one side.

“You shouldn’t be moving around young man,” she scolded. 

“I will not let John face a possible threat alone.”

There is a knock at the door. “B, its John let me in.”

Sherlock set himself back down to the couch as B went to unlock the door.

“Sherlock, its Henrietta, she’s got several hot leads.” 

(-_-)

Mycroft’s minions, the Homeless Network and Serpents Tooth got the exciting news simultaneously. Multiple inquires had come down the line asking about Sherlock’s current state of health. Everyone scattered to follow the leads as quickly as possible. 

John closed the door, his back to its solid surface. Sherlock looked very appreciatively at his ‘friend’. Friend seemed too small a word to encompass what they shared. Friend didn’t cover it by half.

“John, I know you wanted to follow these leads yourself.”

“You asked me to stay with you, Sherlock. I’m not happy‒I’ll not pretend I am. But I’ve told you I’d stay with you and you are stuck with me.” John is calm as he smiles at Sherlock. No hint of animosity.

Sherlock gives John his crooked half smile. He marvels at how he has found the one man in the world who will always acquiesce to his request; this very good man, John Watson. 

(-_-)

The stabilizer comes by late evening and it is an atomized spray. John is over-the-moon that he doesn’t have to inject anything into Sherlock. John helps Sherlock with a warm shower then places him in bed and sets up next to him to observe him throughout the night. Mrs. Hudson is off to Mrs. Taylor’s to have a bit of a night off and John hopes that tomorrow is a better day.

Sherlock is sleeping soundly. John is instant messaging Cindy from Serpent’s Tooth. Still monitoring Sherlock for a while after he’s taken the stabilizer. John senses instantly come on alert from a sound from below. He types a warning to Cindy and places his mobile on the bedside stand. He lifts his Browning. Stilling himself, he concentrates on his hearing. Noise is emanating from Mrs. Hudson’s flat. John wants desperately to go down and see what is transpiring, but he dare not leave Sherlock alone. 

Should he wake Sherlock? He’d alerted Serpent’s Tooth and everyone would be making a beeline for the flat. Would they get here in time? 

“Sherlock,” John whispers. He knew that Sherlock wouldn’t be at a hundred percent. He is under the influence of the stabilizer and the side effects were drowsiness for at least a day or so. Better to have him aware though if things got sticky.

“John,” Sherlock pushed himself up against the headboard of the bed. “What is it?” He was bleary eyed, those sharp cognitive skills dulled by the helpful anti-vector.

“Sherlock, I’m not certain, but I think there may be someone down stairs. I’ve notified Serpent’s Tooth. Everyone should be here in moments.

Now there is definitely movement on the stairs as the squeaky stair gives sound to the quiet night. The scraping of metal against metal at the front door. 

“Someone is here, Sherlock. I want you to stay back and don’t get in the way.”

The bedroom door is ajar. Slowly the door opens; its well-oiled hinges silent as it moves revealing the diminutive figure of Quardis Smith clad in black leather splattered with blood. She also wears the ever-fashionable Semtex vest. Plastered across her face is a wicked smile like stretched razor wire. Her face goes blank as she stares at the empty bed. 

John rounds from behind the door bringing the Browning across with the full force of his body into Smith’s face. The blow cracks into Smith’s skull, blood splatters in a wide arc across the room.

“I think that’s got it!” Sherlock gives John a smug look from the floor behind John. 

“She threatened our lives. I wasn’t going to let her hurt you, Sherlock, not ever again.”

“Remind me not to piss you off, John.” Sherlock watches, as John looks Smith over to be sure she is no longer conscious. The world explodes with activity as people came up the stairs and instantly there were too many people in the flat, in the building and on the street.

Mycroft’s minions try to separate John and Sherlock to debrief them. Immediately Dr. Watson sets them straight. Sherlock is his patient and not to be separate from his care. Removal of the megalomaniac to a containment truck outside of 221B where bomb squad personnel have the honor of undressing her before medical personal can attend her physical injuries.

The flat is a zoo and not any place for a recuperating invalid so John puts his foot down and orders everyone out, then calls Mycroft and puts his foot down again and orders the world to go away.

John pushes the door closed and locks it. He is supremely confident that he has everything under control. His control. 

“What is her medical status John?” Sherlock is sipping a cup of tea as he reclines on the couch.

“Ask me if I give a fuck. I’m more concerned about our people who were injured and killed by her people as she slash-and-burned her way to our back door.”

“She won’t be seeing the light of day again if Mycroft has anything to say about it.” Sherlock is pretty chuffed about it all. Pride in his John Watson is showing through his sophisticated veneer. “You were magnificent, John. I will consent to be your ‘damsel-in-distress’ at any given moment of time.” Sherlock smiles broadly, his face crinkles showing his smile is a real one and not an actor’s mask.

John comes over to the couch and collapses onto its surface dangerously close to Sherlock. John huffs a deep breath.

“Come here you.” John embraces Sherlock as he takes his teacup and sets it on the coffee table. John tightens his embrace. Holding Sherlock as if he can squeeze the damn vector out of him.

Sherlock surrenders himself to the warmth and strength of this man who he loves more and more each day. He closes his eyes and snuggles in.

John kisses Sherlock’s eyelids. One after another.

Sherlock’s eyes open. Their faces so close. Sherlock parts his sensual lips. John can no longer control his desire. His lips meet Sherlock’s in a chaste kiss. Leaning back, he waits to see what Sherlock’s reaction will be.

“That was a long time coming.” Sherlock looks into the storm tossed dark blue of John’s eyes and wonders why he made John and himself wait so long.

“It’s not really a great time to be delving into the murky relationship waters, love.” John says as he relinquishes his hold on Sherlock.

“No. It’s the perfect time.” Sherlock draws John back into the intimate embrace. “I was a different person when we first met. I was someone who had never known love. Someone, whose rubbish older brother taught him that love was a distraction, a chemical defect. I’m better than that now. I have found you, John. You have saved my life in so many ways. If this time is all I have left, I want to spend it with you.”

John crushed Sherlock to his heart with anguished, unrequited love. The final release of his restrained passions and profound emotional attachment to the one person in the world that deserved everything he could offer was set free.

“I’ve been so afraid, John. Such a coward. The thought of losing any part of you was too much to bear. Forgive me. I do so love you.” Sherlock sought and found an over powering kiss. He knew all along that John loved him, but could Sherlock love John back in the way that he deserved?

John’s kiss was compassionate. Complete. Overwhelming. The love it encompassed quelled any doubt or fear that Sherlock held in those dark places in his Mind Palace. 

Rejoicing. Breathless with the final breach of friendship walls. Lovers, they would be lovers now and forever.

John held Sherlock protectively. His strength was so nurturing. Such a gift. 

“We will ride this maelstrom together.” John whispered into Sherlock’s riot of dark curls.

Sherlock laid back upon the couch, drawing John over him. The weight and pressure of John was so soothing and reassuring. Then the tremors started again.

“Cold?” John asked. He moved to get up. To get blankets or his medical kit, to do something.

“Not cold.” Sherlock kept John close. “Stay. Warm me with your love.”

John held his world close as his tears of joy moistened Sherlock’s silk robe. 

(-_-)

They stayed there for what appeared to be a long time or was it just a heartbeat? John leveraged himself up and looked into the dreamy eyes of a besotted Sherlock Holmes. 

“You kill me with those eyes of yours.” John said smiling. “Tremors gone?”

“Yes. Could we have some tea, please?”

“Whatever your heart desires, love. Whatever.” John rose to move to the kitchen. Put the kettle on to boil and prepare mugs for tea.

The computer chimed. 

“I’ll get is shall I.” John didn’t want Sherlock doing anything. He flipped open his laptop to find a line coming open from Serpent’s Tooth. 

“John are you there?” Cindy’s voice was breathless and excited.

“Cindy, both Sherlock and I are here. Good news I hope?”

“The very best news John. The vector was never stable. Our people know that it will never last long enough to perform its malignant purpose. Smith’s people put the vector out before it was truly viable. Sherlock should be showing signs of the vectors demise even as we speak.”

“What are the signs?” John was jubilant and grabbed handfuls of Sherlock.

“Tremors without chills or fever,” Cindy said. 

“Yes, yes. He’s been experiencing tremors since yesterday.” John laughed like a schoolchild given a snow day. “Any follow up care that needs to happen?” John always the doctor, making sure that necessary care was not overlooked.

“Give him all the TLC he can handle,” Cindy said. “Sherlock we are putting this case to bed and I think John should do the same to you.” Cindy was a cheeky computer geek.

“My sentiments exactly.” John said turning to Sherlock and giving him a steely-eyed flash of desire. 

“John!” Sherlock said in discomfort as John crushed him onto the couch with his full weight. “You are mangling my erection.”

“With that lovely thought in mind. I leave you two to your much need _rest_.” She said that last word coyly.

John closed the laptop and helped Sherlock from the couch. Guiding him skillfully into Sherlock’s bedroom. 

John started pulling off his clothes as Sherlock sat on the edge of the bed. Naked, John came forward and took Sherlock’s robe and pajama bottoms off. Setting him gently upon the bed.

“I heard someone say something about a mangled erection. I am a doctor, you know. I can fix that.”

Sherlock merely blinked his grey/blue/gold eyes and made happy little noises.

“Yes, please and thank you,” was all he could say.


End file.
